


Give a Puck

by happyisahabit



Series: Starlight Collection [24]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Growing Up, Hockey AU, I wanted an excuse to nickname them the Murder Wings, Pre-Relationship, Star's teammates are trashy kinda, Strained Friendships, fixing it, guest appearances by LWD characters so I didn't have to make up OCs, sorority mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24639553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyisahabit/pseuds/happyisahabit
Summary: Written in place of a 'Day and Night' prompt for MaStar Week 2020Maka and Black Star's friendship is on thin ice when they start college, and then it gets worse. Can they save it in OT? Hockey and communication are key.
Relationships: Maka Albarn & Black Star, Maka Albarn/Black Star
Series: Starlight Collection [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/674591
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Give a Puck

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry for the pun/bad title and the summary. It's hockey though so there's that.  
> Thanks again to soundofez for lending me their eyeballs before posting! <3

The first step into the rink is a slap in the face with cold air and hockey gear stench. Still, Maka doesn’t flinch, used to the combination. Ahead and next to her are the girls in the sorority she’s rushing; it's an academic honor sorority, but apparently still a sorority at its core. So, when one of the older girls had mentioned her very attractive boyfriend on the hockey team, suddenly they were all wrapping themselves in school scarves and cute sweaters to watch a scrimmage.

Maka hadn’t thought much about it when she’d been hustled out the door. She'd grabbed a sweatshirt and threw her hair up messily, as she’d been in the middle of prep for class that week. She’d totally forgotten that Blake was on the hockey team.

Well, she hadn’t exactly forgotten. More like… she was actively avoiding him. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hang out with him or anything, but after the convocation ceremony to start the school year and welcome all the new freshmen, she’d stopped seeking him out. They’d arrived on campus together, their dads helping them move into their dorms. (Spirit had cried as Sid dragged him away.) They didn’t have classes together, and Maka had spent an exorbitant amount of time in the library, looking for good reference materials as well as quiet study spots. Naturally, they would only see each other in passing or at meals. 

Blake texted her for a while, but when she stopped answering his requests for her to cook for him or for her to come out drinking or goof off, he quit, too.

They had not talked since. It didn’t upset her, nor was she worried about him. No, not one iota. She could survive at college without Blake. Absolutely. And he seemed just fine when she caught sight of his bright blue hair, laughing on campus with all his new friends. Typical.

So Maka slips into the bleachers behind most of the girls. They’re all preening and messing with their hair, hoping to score a hot, athletic boyfriend like their upperclassman. A girl in her required English and Composition class named Casey scooches into the spot next to Maka. She also seems pretty studious, so Maka likes her.

“Hey, girl!” she says. Casey is the only other one wearing more casual clothes, though her sweatshirt is actually already a hockey one. “Didn’t want to get cute for these stinky hockey players?”

Maka laughs. “I suppose you didn’t because you’ve already got one?” She points at the hockey logo on the chest. Casey waves her away and snorts.

“Nah, just my stupid step-brother. He’d make a fool out of himself if he didn’t have a ‘good luck charm,’ and since his baby sister can’t be here…”

“I see,” Maka says, but Casey reaches a hand out lightning quick. Maka’s hair tumbles down and her hair tie spins cheekily around Casey’s finger.

“Well, just because I know better than to date a hockey player,” she says conspiratorially, “Doesn’t mean you can’t!”

Maka splutters underneath the sudden increase in giggles and squeals. The teams have taken to the ice. Maka pats down her hair, pouting, and her eyes skim over the rink. Instantly, without her consent, they fall on a shock of blue hair sitting on the bench.

* * *

“Oooh lookie there!” 

“Man, I knew the girls here were pretty, but wow!”

“Are they here for us?”

“You think they’ve got boyfriends?”

“They can’t  _ all _ have guys.”

A stick banging on the wall of the team box gets the team’s attention. Blake looks up from where he’s been tightening his skates. The team captain is an upperclassman and has a pretty commanding presence that keeps their team’s shenanigans in line. “Don’t get distracted by a pretty face!”

The guy looks almost cool for a second until one of his buddies points out his girlfriend is among them. Then the captain’s face colors deeply, and he almost trips over his own feet to look at the bleachers. The laughter around them is raucous as they’re called out on the ice, and Blake grumbles to himself that he isn’t on the starting lineup, even for just a scrimmage. No matter, he’ll make it up there by the time the season starts in earnest.

The guy next to him, Derek, a freshman like him, elbows him. “There really are some babes, huh?” He waggles his eyebrows and Blake rolls his eyes at his teammate. “Hey, that blonde is totally my type! What’s she doing with Casey?”

Blake nearly misses the question until he hears ‘blonde’. Trying not to look eager, he turns toward the gaggle of girls in the stands. Instantly, without even knowing she would be there, he finds Maka. 

It feels like months since he last saw or spoke to her. While he’d love to call her out and figure out why she had to show up  _ here _ of all places, he also wants to ignore her and give her a taste of her own medicine. See how she likes being left on read.

The scrimmage starts, and while his teammates rotate in and out, they all joke about the game and about the girls cheering them on. 

“Hey but how bout that tiny one in the sweatshirt with the blonde hair? Ya think she’d be into a ‘study session’ or two?”

The tone sets Blake’s teeth on edge. The only one up there with a sweatshirt that’s tiny and blonde is Maka. He gets the signal to swap onto the ice with the offense, but he throws parting words over his shoulder: “Mak wouldn’t be interested in  _ you _ .”

The chorus of ‘ooohs’ and whistles follow him onto the rink. Blake growls as his face flushes, though it is covered by his mask. So much for being able to ignore her. Now the whole team’s gonna want him to talk about her or to her for them. Ugh!

* * *

He hates it when he’s right. 

After managing to squeeze out of the post-scrimmage party with the excuse that he had a test coming up (it was a lie, and he really wanted to go to the party, but, but, but-) the questions and requests rolled in. ‘Hey we tried to talk to that girl, Mak? She wouldn’t even look at us but she was so cute. Can’t you put in a good word for us?’

Blake had snapped at each one of his teammates that had gone down this track, and there were way too many of them.  _ Don’t call her Mak, her name’s Maka, and she isn’t likely to give you the time of day, much less a date. _ Every rebuff he uses to keep the team off his back about her seems to ingrain a seed of  _ something _ knowing in their heads. The questions become jokes, the requests just good-natured ribbing, until everyone in the team knows that Maka is off-limits.

They’re all convinced that she’s his secret girlfriend.

Blake hasn’t spoken to her since the first month of class. Still, he can’t help but look for her in the crowd when they play a match. She’s there more than he expected, in a school sweater or a generic hockey sweatshirt with Derek’s step-sister. Maka cheers for the team, and he plays harder when she’s there, hoping she will cheer for  _ him. _

The team notices and the teasing gets worse about the famous no-PDA couple. Blake stops arguing with them that Maka isn’t his, that they don’t just keep their distance so he can focus on playing, that she isn’t some secret lover.

* * *

It’s midseason and the last match before winter break. Casey leans back next to Maka and gives her friend a playfully scrutinizing look.

“So when are you gonna ask out the left winger?” she teases. Maka whips her head towards the brunette. There’s light flush on her cheeks, which could be attributed to the chill in the rink, but Casey knows better by now. Maka is never bothered by the cold and seems well-accustomed to the temperature inside.

“Star?! Why would I ask him out!” Maka squeaks. She thought she’d been doing so well at ignoring him, but even Casey must have noticed how she tracks him across the ice, how she cheers louder when he pulls off a particularly skillful slapshot or crushes an opponent into the boards.

“I didn’t even mention Blake!” Casey laughs. “There are four players who could’ve been ‘the left winger’ and you picked him yourself! You’ve even got a special nickname for him.”

Well and truly caught out, Maka huffs and turns her attention back to the game. It’s a blowout; their team is up 9 to 1 in the third period. “I’ve known Blake since we were toddlers, pretty much my whole life.”

Casey says nothing, just loops an arm through Maka’s and turns back to the game. The tilt of her head shows Maka she’s still listening though.

“I’ve... been kinda awful to him since we got to college. I got wrapped up in what I wanted to accomplish here and then a bit jealous of how he seemed to fit right in and make friends. I ignored him until he stopped trying to talk to me.”

“Hmm… Maka, are you free on Sunday?”

“Yeah, why?” she asks, curious at the change in topic.

“Because,” Casey says, turning toward her with determination. “I think I know how you can fix it.”

Maka’s faint question of ‘fix it?’ is lost in the swelling cheers as the team’s forwards break through the weak defense again. Her brain catches up with the action and she lets out a loud whoop when Blake makes a sharp cut to trip up the final defenseman and whip the puck into the net. Casey throws her arms around her as they jump in celebration.

“Okay, Casey,” Maka says with determination. “Whatever it is Sunday, I’m in.”

* * *

Their captain thought it was a great idea to open up the rink on their last official practice for any of their fans to come by and get a free hockey lesson. In an effort to keep support and morale high during their (so far) winningest season in five years, he had begged the coaches and trainers to let the team have a bit of fun for their last practice. It did not make it any less mandatory, though.

So Sunday’s practice is spent in an old jersey from high school as his team jerseys are all in his laundry or mixed into the locker room’s pile from last game. It’s teal, white and black, with the creepy mascot mask on the front and his name and number on the back. Barrett, number 5. He takes the first few laps with the team and breaks away as more casuals join the ice. Guys break off to help their girlfriends or boyfriends or visiting family members, but Blake doesn’t expect anyone he knows so he keeps making loops.

“Barrett! Hey!” one of their three goalies skates up next to him. “I  _ knew  _ it! There’s no way you can deny it now!”

“Deny what?” Blake grumbles. This guy was one of the group that had pestered him all semester about Maka. He just cackles and jabs a finger towards the other end of the rink, elbowing Blake harshly.

“Your girlfriend, idiot,” his teammate leers. “You guys  _ match _ !”

What. Blake’s eyes snap over to where he points. Maka is indeed there, still outside the ice, but visible through the glass. She’s got on a jacket for the cold weather outside, but it’s open and he can see that they do indeed match. Maka, too, wears a Shibusen High hockey jersey. She hasn’t noticed him yet, still talking to Casey and some other girls from their sorority that had become regulars at the hockey matches.

“I  _ knew  _ it, you rascal! She’s wearing your jersey from high school? Man, you could’ve just told us outright.”

At this, Blake nearly chokes on laughter. “Nah, that’s not  _ my _ jersey…” Maka puts down her coat and tightens her skates. “It’s  _ hers. _ ”

Entering the ice, pigtails tight in a way that makes him burn with nostalgia and an itch in his fingers to pull on them, is Albarn, number 64, right wing.

Blake barely catches how the goalie’s jaw drops as he pushes his legs to swipe past Maka. He flies too fast and too close for nearly anyone else on the ice except his teammates, but Maka is Maka and even if she hasn’t been skating as much as they did before college, she tears off after him.

Their matching jerseys capture a lot of attention and his teammates don’t miss an opportunity to jeer at him. Maka follows at his tail and while he can hear her skates cutting into the ice, he doesn’t turn to look at her. He is still kind of mad at her for ignoring him, but he also wants to know why she kept coming to games, why she’s  _ here _ . Clearly, she intended to talk to him, by wearing the sweater from their high school club team.

After a few laps, he hears her feral shriek of frustration. She picks up her pace and cuts him off. They skid to a stop in a flurry of shaved ice. Maka’s cheeks are puffed out and red. It’s unbearably cute and Blake honestly tries to break eye contact now that they’ve made it, but he can’t. Those green blazes keep him still.

“What is your problem?” she yells, getting the attention of everyone in their corner of the rink. He watches her expression morph from frustration to embarrassment. Blake grabs her elbow and tugs her closer to the wall, a bit surprised that she lets him. “I- That’s not what I meant to say.”

“Then what did you mean to say?” he snipes back. As happy as he is that she is talking to him again, he hopes it isn’t just to scream at him. “You sure haven’t seemed like talking for the past couple months, Maka.”

She winces, either at his admonishment or use of both syllables of her name, he isn’t sure. “Star-”

“Blake,” he cuts in. He doesn’t want his pet name rolling off her tongue until whatever is broken between them gets fixed, until he knows that she isn’t about to drop him again. She actually recoils this time as if he had physically struck her. His grip on her arm keeps her from running as much as it keeps him from taking it back.

“B-Blake…. I’m  _ sorry _ ,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean it. I just got so- ...so frustrated!” Her eyes flick to their feet before raising back up to his determination. “You were fitting in so well and I saw you less and less, but you still…”

“I kept asking you to hang out, to study, to go eat. Again and again!” he says hotly. “I invited you to meet my friends and to come to games and parties but you just ignored me! You pretended I didn’t exist!”

“Yes,  _ your friends _ !” she hits back, voice equal parts guilt and bitterness. “Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t want to just follow you around like a puppy? That I wanted to figure things out on my own? I ignored you because you were treating me just like in high school!”

“And what’s wrong with that? My friends were your friends and your friends were my friends,” he spits. “They were all  _ our _ friends. We did  _ everything _ together. Why would I want to let that go just because we’re in a new place?”

This thought doesn’t seem like one that had occurred to Maka before as he watches her eyes get glassy. Blake wrenches his mouth around the words that try to escape and when the first tear starts to well out of her eyes, he loses control.

“Why would I ever want to let  _ you _ go?” he says, voice raspy.

“I don’t… I thought you…” she whispers. A few small tears track down her cheeks quietly. Their skate covered toes click together when she gets closer. His hand is still hot on her arm. “You seemed okay, happy even, without me.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” Blake mutters. Her other elbow is suddenly in his other hand. Brushing away her tears would break whatever truth spell has fallen over them.

“I don’t want to be like we were in high school.” 

“We’re not in high school anymore. Or middle or elementary or pre-K for that matter.”

“You know what I mean…” This is when she ducks her gaze away and he has to squeeze her to force her to look back up.

“No, say it clearly and I’ll do it.” She squirms in his hold a bit. “Whatever it is, if it’s something I can do, tell me.”

“Blake-”

“Star,” he interrupts. He can feel the tension leave her as her eyes widen. “...Mak.”

“I want to come to your games, Star,” Maka states, determination filling her up again. Her cheeks get rosy when he accepts.

“What else?”

“I want to wait for you when they’re over.”

“Fine. And?”

“I want... “ she bites her lip and Blake wishes his eye wasn’t so naturally drawn to the act. “I want to wear your number, Star.”

“You got it,” he huffs. He pulls her into a hug more to hide how red his face has suddenly become than to offer her assurance. Now that he’s tucked around her though, he is hyper aware of how her fingers grip into his sides and how she fits under his chin.

The whistles and catcalls start to ring back in his ears. The rest of the rink comes back into focus and Blake is pretty sure he won’t ever get more red in the face than he is right now with the whole team grinning at him.

“You can’t ignore my texts anymore,” he demands, still not looking down at her when he lets go. “You have to talk to me if you think something stupid again, idiot.”

“Who’s the idiot, idiot?” Maka elbows him and he chances a glance. Her cheeks are dusted pink and wiped of tears, but her eyes glint with amusement. “All that noise for us?”

“Yeah, they’re all convinced we’ve been secretly dating this whole time,” he grumbles. Blake flinches when her fingers slip between his for a moment, squeezing. “Mak..?”

“Casey’s been pestering me to ask out that cute left winger for a while, too.”

“Wait, what?” He nearly trips as she starts to take off across the ice, gliding like she was made for it. “You mean me, right? Mak! Right?!”

Her laughter is better than the buzzer after making a goal. “Isn’t there a mock game later?” she asks instead of answering. “Want to show them why we were feared across five counties as the Murder Wings?”

He grins wide and their skates keep time with each other. He tugs on her pigtail, she pouts playfully, and he laughs, loud and free. 

“You got it!”


End file.
